


Our guilt

by chastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 14x18 spoilers, Canon Compliant, Don't worry though, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Guilty Dean Winchester, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post 14x18, Post Supernatural : Absence, Suicidal Castiel (Supernatural), Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, You shouldn't read it if you haven't watched the episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 23:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18486913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chastiel/pseuds/chastiel
Summary: Set after season 14 episode 18: Absence.As Castiel is burdened by Dean's anger, he feels like nobody wants or needs him around anymore.Dean tries to process the recent events and can't help but deeply regret the way he reacted. What he said to Castiel is unforgivable, yet the angel doesn't seem to hold it against him. Then again, Castiel never seems to hold anything against him, so it makes it easier to take it out on him. What if this time, he's gone too far? What if this time, Castiel isn't fine?Then Dean has to fix it, before it's too late.





	Our guilt

Sam’s hand is heavy on his shoulder, grounding him and stopping him from getting to Dean. Castiel doesn’t know how to interpret it. He’s convinced Dean hates him and his words keep ringing through his mind. _If she’s… Then you’re dead to me_. There is no fixing what happened. Castiel knows he crossed the line, he knows there is no more hope for him to ever redeem himself to Dean. Once again, his decisions, his actions, his choices, were the wrong ones and the suffocating atmosphere around them is there to remind him of it.

It hurts, because he knows that Dean is in pain and he feels responsible for it. There is nothing he can do to help him, because Castiel knows the simple sight of him angers Dean. Sam probably saved him from more harsh words, maybe even a punch, by stopping him from reaching the older Winchester. If he still had his wings, Castiel would have flown away instantly. He wants to. There is nothing he wants more than to run away from everything that’s going to happen now. He can’t look Dean in the eye after failing him so badly, he knows nothing will ever be the same.

Castiel looks down, eyes burning with tears he refuses to shed. He doesn’t feel like he has the right to cry. He’s going to miss Mary, but his grief cannot be compared to Sam and Dean’s. He knows how much Dean looked up to his mother, how important she was to him. Castiel doesn’t get to cry or be sad, because he caused all this. He knows Dean would hate him more, if he saw him cry.

The silence between them is killing Castiel. Nobody says a word, the cracking fire as it consumes Mary’s body sounds almost deafening to him. Dean looks broken and angry. Sam is devastated. Castiel feels like he has no right to be here, like he lost his privileges, like he lost his family, his home. He doesn’t belong anymore. Dean said it to him, and Castiel is convinced he meant it. Castiel is as good as dead to them.

He’s losing everything and he probably deserves it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been happy, but he knows for sure that he’s never felt so bad. He wants it to stop, he doesn’t think he can handle it anymore. Nobody would care anyway, he knows it.

Castiel hears Dean’s footsteps before he sees him leave. It forces him to look up, eyes tracking Dean’s movements as he walks towards the car. His steps are heavy, slower, it’s like a huge weight has been added to his shoulders. It crushes him. Castiel hates himself for putting that weight there. Dean had been happy, recently. He was surrounded by his family, by people who loved him. That was all gone now.

Castiel feels Sam’s hand fall from his shoulder, and he’s surprised by how cold and empty he feels when its steady, reassuring presence is gone. Sam is following after Dean.

Castiel just looks straight at the fire, because he knows what happens next. He knows and he’s ready, but it hurts all the same.

As soon as Sam gets in the car with Dean, it starts and drives away, leaving Castiel here alone. Dean is hurting, he hates Castiel, he probably doesn’t want him to come back to the bunker, ever. Castiel has no more home.

He knows he wasn’t expected to follow them, to get in the car with them. He also knows Sam probably asked Dean to wait for him. He knows Dean didn’t respond and started the engine.

Alone and face to face with his failures, Castiel breaks.

His vision blurs as he keeps looking at the flames, licking up to the sky as they burn away the last remains of Mary Winchester - and with her, Castiel’s hopes of happiness. The first tears that fall from his eyes are hot on his cheeks. He’s never felt like that. It hurts. It hurts so much he finds himself begging for it to stop.

Then, a sob tears its way out of his throat and he can’t stop crying anymore. He’s messed everything up. He’s lost Dean.

Castiel slowly falls to his knees, as he presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, tries to control his breathing and his sobs, but he just fails. He keeps failing. He only wants one thing now, and it’s peace.

It’s quiet.

He wants to disappear, to fulfill Dean’s wishes, to make it easier for him. He’s dead to Dean. He’s as good as dead. Except he’s in pain. “Please… Take me now,” he whispers, voice shaky and broken. “I know we had a deal, but I need you to take me now.”

For what feels like forever, Castiel doesn’t even dare open his eyes. He keeps them screwed shut, hands shaking as he covers his face with them. The tears are too numerous to be held back and they sneak and slip between his fingers.

Nothing comes.

The entity that promised to make him sleep forever refuses to bring him peace when he needs it the most, and somehow, that hurts so much more.

Castiel opens his eyes and looks around, but he’s all alone, sitting in the dirt, in front of an altar that’s done burning but is still smoking. He feels empty, striped of all energy. As he looks up at the sky and breathes a last, “Please,” he hopes someone will take pity on him. He doesn’t know who he’s praying to, who he’s begging to for relief.

He lost it all and he doesn’t know where to go now. He has nowhere to go.  


* * *

  
Dean never intended to be so harsh to Castiel. The words he said will forever stick with him, like a second skin. The amount of guilt he feels over them is insane, but he still can’t take them back, still can’t apologize for them. He knows it’s not right, he knows his actions only bring more pain and Sam looks at him like he knows it too. Maybe he’s just too scared of Dean at the moment to say anything about it.

Dean doesn’t want to blame Castiel. He doesn’t want to be angry at him, but it’s the only feeling he can feel, other than heartbreak. Right now, it’s so much easier to be angry, to put the blame on someone, than it is to face the truth. His mother is dead.

He’s watched her burn twice.

And it’s not Castiel’s fault. If there is anyone to blame, Dean thinks it’s himself. It’s so easy to transfer his pain to someone else, though. It’s so easy to yell at Castiel and make him understand how much he’s hurting by hurting him too. It’s easy, but it’s wrong and abusive.

Dean hates that he even feels this way. He hates that he’s so scared he’s going to fall apart, he can’t even bring himself to look Castiel in the eye and apologize. Because Castiel doesn’t deserve to hear that he’s dead to him.

Losing Castiel is the single most painful thing Dean has ever experienced and he would _never_ want for it to happen again. He has a tendency of lashing out to the people he loves the most, the ones he feels he can lean on, because he likes to think they’re strong enough to support him, his attitude, and not break. But people like Castiel have a burden of their own too.

Castiel is the strongest person - angel, Dean has ever met. He’s sacrificed and lost more than anyone could ever comprehend, yet he’s still here, caring and loving the Winchesters despite everything. Despite the fact that Dean brings him nothing but additional pain. Surely, he can handle Dean lashing out to him, because he’s strong enough to bear his pain. But what if he isn’t? Dean can’t stop thinking about it.

Every day, Dean is reminded that he doesn’t deserve Castiel and it makes him angry for some reason. Because why is Castiel still sticking by them, when he could have much better?

Dean knows he has no right to put so much emotional burden on Castiel’s shoulders. He knows he has no right to treat him that way. He doesn’t intend to, ever. He’s just hurting too bad and he doesn’t know how to process his feelings, so he throws them out there.

Maybe a part of him thought it was easier to take it all out on Castiel because he simply hates it when the angel doesn’t tell him everything, when he hides things from him. None of it is Castiel’s fault, but it reminded Dean of the time Castiel worked with Crowley behind their back. He’d never felt more betrayed, by anyone, in his life. Because he loves Castiel, deeply. Probably more than he will ever admit or act on. To think about him keeping secrets from him drives Dean mad.

He doesn’t have any right processing what happened as Castiel’s betrayal, because the angel always tries his best. Always has their best interest in mind. No matter what, no matter where they are or what they do, Castiel’s heart is always pure. He never does anything unless he thinks it’s for the best. He never does anything that could bring pain to anyone if he can help it. He loves and loves and loves with all his heart.

And it hurts Dean, because he’s not deserving of that love. It makes it easier to yell at Castiel. He thought he was doing the right thing, he thought he was helping, that this was his responsibility and Dean hates that Castiel always feel responsible for everything. He hates that he always tries to take care of things alone. He hates that he never calls for help. He hates that half of the times Castiel gets in danger and almost dies, Dean doesn’t know anything about it until later. Something like that was bound to happen someday, and maybe it’s what makes Dean so angry at Castiel.

Then again, maybe Dean knows that if Castiel _felt_ like he could reach out to them, then he would. Maybe, if Castiel doesn’t, it’s because he doesn’t think he has the right to ask for their help. It’s not Castiel Dean is angry with, it’s himself.  


* * *

   
Dean just can’t handle the sight of Castiel anymore, because he was looking at him with those big, sad blue eyes of his while the fire was burning. He looked like he was about to burst into tears, yet all he wanted to do was comfort Dean. It made Dean feel angrier, made him feel even less deserving. How could Castiel be so selfless and kindhearted? Couldn’t he see how frustrating that was, in the middle of all this pain?

So Dean hadn’t thought and he’d left. He’d started the car without even waiting for Castiel, because he wanted to prove how hurt he was. He wanted to make him feel like he wouldn’t ever forgive him. Now that he’s sitting at the table in the bunker’s library, a bottle of whiskey in hand, he’s not even sure why he wanted to make Castiel feel that way. It’s just cruel. He knows Castiel is hurting too. They all are. They all lost Mary, who was a mother to two of them and the closest thing to a mother figure to Castiel. They’re all losing Jack.

Dean knows he was unfair to Castiel and he blames himself for it. A part of him can’t do anything but show how hurt he is though and maybe it’s a call for help, but the more he thinks about it, the worse he feels. That’s no way to call for help. How could he have spoken to Castiel like that and left him all alone? How could he hurt him like that when he cares about him so much? Maybe because he cares about him so much and assumes he will be fine. Castiel is always fine. He always goes off on his own and he’s fine. After what Dean told him, he wouldn’t even be surprised if Castiel wanted time away from them.

So when Castiel doesn’t come back to the bunker the three following days, Dean isn’t surprised. He sees Sam’s concern grow and he keeps telling him to stop worrying. Castiel will only come back when he wants to. Still, a part of Dean is terrified that he will never want to again.

“Listen, I know you’re angry but this isn’t right. I’ve tried calling Cas a dozen times and he never picks up,” Sam explains as he walks into the room, and he frowns when he sees the whiskey Dean is holding. “I’m seriously starting to worry and I can’t believe you’re not.”

Dean just shrugs, playing with the bottle in his hands, feigning a nonchalance he doesn’t actually have at all. “Dude’s always MIA, what are you freaking out about?”

Sam’s gaze hardens and Dean feels _judged_. Good. He deserves that.

“He usually calls and keeps us updated, Dean. He probably thinks you’re still pissed, so he might not-”

Sam is cut off when Dean looks back up at him, eyes stern, “I still am.”

There’s silence after that, for a moment. Dean isn’t sure why he wants everyone to think that he blames Castiel for everything, but he wants the world to know that he won’t get over this. Not easily, not for a very long time, if ever. He’s still angry. Not at Castiel, not at Sam, but at himself, at Jack, at the whole world for always taking away everything they care about.

“Fine. I get it, it’s hard for everyone but Cas doesn’t deserve-”

Once again, Sam has to stop when Dean’s voice, cold and harsh, slices through the air, “Mom didn’t deserve to get killed by Lucifer’s psycho son either, life’s unfair like that.”

Sam seems to realize that Dean is in that particular head space he hates to see him in. The one in which he snaps at everyone who tries to help him, the one in which he gets up and breaks things out of frustration. It’s a state Sam hates, because it worries him, it makes it hard to recognize Dean, when he lets out that dark, terribly pained part of him. Castiel has been a firsthand witness of that and he had to suffer being the target of Dean’s anger. It’s unfair, always. That anger just always needs to be aimed at someone. Sam suspects that it’s because Dean wouldn’t be able to handle taking it upon himself. Jack had been Dean’s scapegoat when Castiel died. Sam had been when Charlie died. Every time Dean loses someone he cares about, he seems to feel the need to hurt someone the way he’s hurting. It’s hard to talk to him about it without fearing the same fate. Sam knows people react differently to grief and to the terrible, blinding pain of losing a loved one, so he lets it slide for now, because there are more important things to attend to.

“I’m going to find him and I’m taking the car. I’ll call you,” Sam declares, not leaving room for protest. It’s not like Dean can stop him from going to Castiel anyway.

Dean just rolls his eyes and scoffs, as if he thinks it’s a stupid idea. Sam leaves him there, because if he doesn’t, he fears he might be the one to snap after all.

It’s only when Sam is gone that Dean’s face falls and guilt creeps into every inch of his heart. He doesn’t want to think about it, it’s so much easier being angry. But what if Castiel isn’t as fine as he likes to think he is? What if he _really_ hurt him? He can’t forget the look on Castiel’s face when he told him those stupid words. Dean didn’t mean them at all, but Castiel sure seemed to believe he did. That’s not possible, though, Castiel knows him. Surely, he knows that Dean would be absolutely devastated if anything ever happened to him, or if he died.

Realization dawns on Dean.

How can he expect Castiel to know anything about how he feels, about how much he cares, about how seeing him dead is the _last_ thing he could possibly want? How can he, when he’s never told him?

Castiel is new to all this, he probably doesn’t understand everything that comes with being human, having feelings, and Dean has been of very little help when it came to teaching him. Dean understands then, that Castiel is _convinced_ he hates him. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t come back to the bunker, not because he wants time away from Dean after what he said. It’s not like Castiel, to leave because he knows he deserves better. Castiel _never_ believes he deserves better and that is one of the many things he has in common with Dean.

So now, there’s only two questions going through Dean’s mind. Where is Castiel and _how_ is he really? A lot can happen in three days and Dean hates that he’s only getting concerned now.

Actually, it’s not entirely true, he did try to call Castiel once, with the clear intention to hang up if he ever picked up but he never had to, because the phone kept ringing until he heard Castiel’s voicemail. It should have worried him then.

Of course, it did but Dean had buried it deep within his own mind, convincing himself that Castiel probably didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment - especially not him. Now, Dean really wishes he hadn’t stopped calling until Castiel picked up.

“Fuck,” he breathes, realizing just how badly he’d messed up. There’s a dark, sinking fear taking roots in the deepest part of him. He’s scared of what the presentiment means. He doesn’t wait much longer and grabs his laptop, fully decided to track down Castiel’s phone and find him. If he’s quick enough, he can get Castiel’s car and might even get to him before Sam. He needs to.

He needs to fix this.  


* * *

   
Castiel doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here, on the cold, hard bench he and Dean had spent a while talking, years ago. This place holds a lot of meaning to him. He remembers opening up to Dean for the very first time, here. He’d talked about his feelings, about his questions, about his doubts. He’d let him know about things he could get killed for. It had been so important to him, then, to make sure Dean understood that he wasn’t just a hammer, an emotionless soldier. Now, he wishes he couldn’t feel anything. Days and nights have passed since he sat on that bench and because he doesn’t need to sleep, they felt even longer to him. The whole time, he’s been fiddling with his angel blade, that he pulls in and out of his sleeve constantly. He’s understood that nobody is going to answer his prayers or help him do the one thing he’s not brave enough to do.

So he’s been contemplating ending it by himself for days, but he can’t bring himself to. It’s hard, somehow. He knows it would bring him relief, he knows the Empty would probably accept him then, if he came to it directly, but he can’t muster the courage to do it.

He’s going to have to, eventually. He can’t continue burdening Sam and Dean with his presence or with worry about his absence. He needs to give them some kind of closure. Maybe they will be hurt at first, but they will move on and they will soon see that their world is better, brighter and easier when Castiel isn’t in it. Dean probably knows that already, that’s why he left him there.

It should be easy. Castiel knows exactly what he needs to do. He’s taken lives before, he knows where he needs to plunge the blade for a quick, rather painless death. He just wishes someone was there to do it for him.

He has to put away the blade when he sees someone sit down next to him out of the corner of his eye. It will have to wait.

He always finds a reason to wait and he hates that he’s so weak.

“I told you there was nothing for you up here,” the old man who sat down next to him says. Surprised, Castiel turns his head to look at him. He’s never seen him before. He’s just a seventy years old man, with a kind face but eyes that look older than he does.

He looks amused too, as if he’s mocking Castiel and the angel immediately gets a bad feeling. “What do you mean? We’ve never met.”

The man smirks, mischievous and satisfied, “Are you sure about that, Castiel?”

Castiel is about to pull out his blade when he realizes that this is his chance. Why would he even want to fight now? The old man’s face changes then, a thick, black substance pearls out of the pores of his skin, until it covers him entirely.

Castiel’s heart drops and he doesn’t know if he’s scared of relieved. Probably a bit of both. He relaxes a little, determined not to fight at all. The old man’s face comes back to normal.

“I saw inside that head of yours... “ The Shadow says, looking up at the sky with a small shrug and a content smirk. “Admittedly, it was stupid of me to make that deal with you. I should have known better than anyone that you could never be happy. I even warned you. You shouldn’t have come back, Castiel. You should have stayed asleep. Forever.”

Castiel hates how much those words hurt, like a dozen blades, stabbing through his chest. The entity is right. Knowing what he fears, what he wants, who he loves… It had warned him that there was nothing waiting for him up here. He should have listened.

“If you’re here to take me, please do it now,” Castiel whispers. He sounds defeated, tired, and it seems to please the Shadow.

“Oh, but where would be the fun in that?”

Castiel closes his eyes, heart sinking. He doesn’t want to play games. He doesn’t want to suffer anymore. He just wants quiet. “What do you want me to do for you to finally grant me peace?”

When the entity doesn’t respond, Castiel looks back over to it and his breath catches in his throat at what he finds. In the old man’s place, Dean is sitting, looking at him with an amused little snicker and eyes that hold more insanity than Dean ever displayed.

“Since I can’t take away from you something you will never have… How about I show you what it would have felt like?” The Shadow suggests, leaning closer until its lips are brushing against Castiel’s ear, sending shivers down his spine. The entity looks like Dean and it makes Castiel feel things he never intended to feel. “So you can die, knowing you will _never_ have it. That sounds like a good compromise.”

Dean’s hand slides up the back of Castiel’s neck, before his fingers tangle in his hair. The touch is gentle, almost loving, and Dean’s voice in his ear is warm, deep, familiarly reassuring. “I know how much you wish he could have held you like that.”

Castiel takes a shaky breath and bites the inside of his cheek so he can hold back the tears forming in his eyes by distracting himself with pain.

“I know how much you wish he could have told you that,” The entity’s voice changed to sound exactly like Dean’s, “It’s okay to cry, Cas. I’m here. We’ll work through it, together. You don’t have to do this all alone anymore.”

Castiel has to close his eyes but a tear escapes anyway. He doesn’t even have the strength to pull away from the embrace he’s for so long been longing for. He needs to hear this, needs to hear Dean tell him that he’s not alone, that he doesn’t want him dead.

But this isn’t Dean.

Castiel feels terrible for indulging in this. If Dean saw him now, he would despise him even more.

“There’s one thing you’ve always dreamed of hearing from his mouth, am I right?” The Shadow asks, voice purring. It’s very obviously sickly enjoying watching the tears fall down Castiel’s cheeks, sensing the pain passing through his mind. “You want to hear him say: I love you too, Cas.”

Castiel swallows thickly, surprised by how painful those words sound to him. He’s always hoped he would hear Dean say those words to him one day. Instead, it’s a cosmic entity who is saying them to him, while wearing Dean’s face. Castiel knows what’s coming and it hurts terribly.

“Too bad he doesn’t. You’ll _never_ hear those words from him.”

Castiel knows he has no right to complain, he has no right to ask why exactly the Shadow is so set on torturing him, because it’s what he gets for wanting his time to come sooner than planned. He just hopes it’s going to be over soon, because he won’t be able to handle much more.

“Look at me,” Dean orders and Castiel complies, like he would have, had the real Dean been sitting in front of him.

The entity smiles, and it’s sweeter this time. “Good,” it whispers and gently brushes Castiel’s hair back. “Just do him a favor and let go, he’ll be better off that way. Everyone will be.”

Castiel barely understands what’s happening, as ‘Dean’ pulls him closer while leaning in as well, until their lips meet. This is fake, this is wrong and this is also Castiel’s last kiss. One he wishes he could have received from Dean but never will.

Imagining it’s him he’s kissing though, that it’s his lips, soft and warm against his own, full of desire and love, it makes him happy. It makes him happy for the first time. Then, everything is gone, just as he hears Dean say his name, one last time.  
  


* * *

 

  
Dean knows for certain that he’s in the right place when he spots the Impala on the side of the street. The town looks familiar and he’s fairly sure he’s been here before, but he can’t quite pinpoint why or when. They’ve been to so many places during their lives. Probably too many to count.

Dean has followed the signal of Castiel’s phone all the way here but he still wasn’t the first to arrive, by the looks of it. Dean rushes out of the car, heading in the signal’s direction. He finds it worrisome, that Castiel hasn’t moved for hours. The phone is in the exact same location it was, two days ago and Dean prays that he won’t find it abandoned somewhere, or worse, attached to a corpse.

As he walks into a park, he definitely remembers having sat on one of the benches, sometime, many years ago. There’s warmth in this place and while he can’t remember what exactly he previously went to that park for, he knows the memories attached to it are fond.

Dean doesn’t expect to find Sam, standing still, staring right at something that is no doubt fascinating, if his wide, surprised eyes are anything to go by. Dean can’t see what it is from here but he wonders what Sam is doing, when he should be looking for Castiel. He promises himself that if Sam has his eyes on a lady or found himself hypnotized by a dog again instead of checking on Castiel, he’s going to beat his ass.

Dean reaches him, frowning a little when he sees him smile fondly at whatever he’s looking at. “Hey, did you find anything?” Dean asks, hoping that engaging the conversation right away would save him from having to explain why he finally decided to come here too.

Sam actually flinches when he hears him and takes a few steps away from him in panic, which is a behavior Dean definitely can’t explain. He’s as surprised as his brother seems to be.

“W-wait, you-...” Sam stutters, expression going from shocked to horrified. “If you’re here… Then, who’s-...”

Dean follows his gaze and when his eyes land on the scene, he’s pretty sure his heart stops beating for about ten seconds. _What the hell?_

Sitting on the bench, not too far, are Castiel and - _himself_? This other Dean has his hand in Castiel’s hair and he keeps whispering things into his ear. Dean can’t quite decipher Castiel’s expression from here, but he looks like he’s in pain, or like he’s trying not to cry and it breaks his heart.

For a few seconds, Dean is unable to move, dumbstruck and taken aback by what he’s witnessing. Why would Castiel even allow him to be so close? Hell, why the hell is someone who looks like him but _isn’t_ him holding Castiel like that? Who gave them the right? He knows it’s probably a shapeshifter of some sort and he needs to do something about it.

Furious and scared for Castiel’s life, Dean advances towards them immediately. He’s going to stop that asshole from getting closer to Castiel, from possibly hurting him. He’s going to warn Castiel that this isn’t him and he’s going to kill the bastard.

Just as Dean is about to loudly call the fake version of him, he kisses Castiel. Dean almost stops dead in his tracks, eyes wide in disbelief.

That’s when he sees it.

Castiel’s grace is leaving his vessel, as the two kiss, Fake Dean seems to be swallowing down the angel’s very essence. Dean sees it when their lips part a little, showing a glimpse of bright white light.

“Cas!” Dean calls as loud as he can, trying to warn him, trying to stop him. But he’s too late. By the time Dean starts running and reaches them, Castiel has gone limp in Fake Dean’s arms. He’s not breathing, not blinking, not moving and Dean knows right away.

“No, no, no-...” Dean chokes out, as the other version of him lays Castiel down on the bench.

Castiel is dead, before his very eyes, at the hand of someone who looks like him and there is no way Dean will ever be able to live with it.

“What did you do?!” Dean yells at Fake Him, shock and heartbreak momentarily replaced by incommensurate anger as he takes a few threatening steps towards him. “What did you do to him?”

Fake Dean just smiles and shakes his head, not at all seeming bothered or worried about the situation. “Oh, Dean… I didn’t do anything. You did.”

That’s it, Dean can’t hear any more. He jumps on the monster, seizes its collar and roughly manhandles it so he can look into its crazy eyes. “Give him back! Bring him back!”

The entity just laughs, which gets on Dean’s nerves. “Why? He’s finally at peace. Now we can sleep… For all eternity. We made a deal, now it’s complete. And it’s all thanks to you, Dean Winchester. Thanks to you, he let me in.”

Dean can’t bear to think about what this means, but he’s slowly starting to understand what he’s looking at. Suddenly, the creature’s skin turns into black goo and before Dean knows it, he’s not holding anything anymore. He looks down just in time to see the Shadow seep back into the deepest part of the earth, where it came from.

 _Now_ , Dean has lost everything, and it’s his own damn fault.

He might as well have killed Castiel, because his words apparently made him feel so bad, he decided to end it all. Dean had no idea about the deal until now, and it makes him feel terrible. Again, Castiel didn’t tell him about something endlessly important. Again, it probably was because he didn’t feel like he could, like Dean would listen or care.

It’s all because Dean never managed to tell him how he felt, never managed to show him how important he was to him, how much he cared about him. Now, it’s too late.

Dean simply falls to his knees next to the bench Castiel is laying on. The angel looks peaceful like that, almost like he’s sleeping, but it’s a lifeless, frozen expression Dean has already seen on his face. It’s an expression he still has nightmares about, that he sees every time he closes his eyes.

“Cas,” Dean calls, voice breaking, as if he had any chance of waking him up now. “I’m so sorry…” He whispers, and before he knows it, he’s sobbing.

Last time, he’d managed to stay strong. He’d lived off of anger and resentment, towards the first person he could get it out on: Jack. With his mother, he’d done the exact same thing. With Castiel, this time, he just can’t. It’s all his fault, he knows it, and he wants nothing more than to turn back time.

Hands desperately clutching the fabric of Castiel’s trench coat, Dean let his forehead falls down onto his angel’s chest, as he holds him with all he has and cries. He doesn’t remember ever crying that hard - full on, heart wrenching sobs that scrap at his throat and wrack his whole body.

“Dean,” Sam’s soft voice says from behind him.

“W-why didn’t you stop him?” Dean asks, choking on his own words. He’s angry again, he needs to be. “You saw him touch Cas like that, why didn’t you stop him?”

“Because I thought it was you.” Sam’s voice is calm, calmer than Dean wants it to be but it’s sad, as if he saw it coming.

“How could it be me? Why would it be me?” Dean snaps, pulling away from Castiel’s body slightly, just to look up at his brother through tearful eyes. “He _kissed_ him.”

Sam doesn’t answer and simply looks Dean in the eye, like a parent whose child asked a question they already know they answer to.

_Oh._

It makes Dean feel worse for some reason. Everyone knows. Everyone has always known when Dean has always done his best to hide it. Everyone knows but Castiel - the _only_ person who needed to know. Dean has been so very stupid, not telling Castiel how he felt before and now he’s lost his chance to. He’s made Castiel, the one being on this planet who deserved the best possible things in life, feel worse than ever and he can’t fix it anymore.

Unless…

“I’ll kill it,” Dean decides, sobs quietening slightly as he calms down and takes a decision. One he won’t rest until he achieves. “The Shadow, I’ll kill it. I’ll get Cas back. I don’t care if I have to burn down the entire world to do it, I will. He needs to know, Sam. He needs to know how much he means to me and how sorry I am. Because if I don’t tell him, he’ll never know and he’ll-... He’ll never have happy memories. He only has sad ones. So I’m bringing him back, and I’ll make sure he’s happy. I’ll make sure he feels fucking blissful, even. Every day. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to redeem myself to him. There’s no talking me out of it.”

Sam doesn’t even try to, he just nods and sits down beside Dean, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. It’s heavy, steady, reassuring and it stops him from losing his mind. “Okay, we’ll get him back.”

It’s like Sam knows, that there’s one person, beside him, that Dean cannot handle ever losing. He knows that Dean needs this, and he knows they won’t stop until they get their angel back. Then, they’ll make sure he never feels the need to leave again, that he never feels like he’s not wanted. Even if they have to tear the universe open and rip Castiel out of the Empty, against all odds, Sam knows they won’t hesitate. They owe Castiel this much. He’s worth all that and more.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! I really wanted to write something following the last episode, because it hurt sooo much, yet I really liked it. I guess I like suffering. It's been a while since a Supernatural episode made me want to write something about it, and while I know there's no hope of it happening like that in canon, I really enjoyed writing this. It's not a happy ending, but I wrote it as if it was the last episode of season 14, and the beginning of season 15 would be set on Dean and Sam getting Castiel out of the Empty. You can see it as some kind of season finale cliffhanger, just know that it's fully intended for Sam and Dean to succeed pulling Castiel out of the Empty eventually.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you thought about it! If you could leave a review, it would mean the world to me!


End file.
